Peter (_hanging his cap behind the door right, then coming back to centre. Margaret is standing on the hearthrug_). Ah, little mother, what a help that faith has been to me. I couldn't disappoint a faith like yours. I had to win. Mother, Margaret, I've done it. Done it. Oh, I think I'm not quite sane to-night. This room seems small all of a sudden. I want to leap, to dance, and I know I'd break my neck against the ceiling if I did. Peter Garside, b.a. (_Approaching Margaret._) Margaret, tell me I deserve it. _You_ know what it means to me. The height of my ambition. The crown, the goal, my target reached at last. Margaret, isn't it a great thing that I've done? Mar. (_taking both his hands_). A great thing, Peter. Peter. Oh, but I was lucky in my papers. Mar. No, you just deserve it all. Peter (_dropping her hands_). Up to the end I didn't know. I thought I'd failed. And here I'm through first class. I've beaten men I never hoped to equal. I've called myself a swollen-headed fool for dreaming to compete with them, and now---- Mrs. G. Now you've justified my faith. I never doubted you--like Margaret did. Peter (_looking from her to Margaret_). Margaret did? Mar. I didn't dare to hope for this, Peter--at a first attempt. Mrs. G. (_contemptuously_). She didn't dare. But I did. I dared, Peter, I knew. Peter (_putting his arm over her shoulder_). Oh, mother, mother! But Margaret was right, if I hadn't had such luck in the papers I---- Mrs. G. (_slipping from him and going to where her cape and bonnet hang on the door right_). It wasn't luck. Even Margaret said you deserved it all. Peter. Even Margaret! (_Seeing her putting cape on._) You're not going out, mother? Mrs. G. (_with determination_). Yes, I am. There's others besides Margaret doubted you. I'm going to tell them all. I'm going to be the first to spread the news. And won't it spread! Like murder. [_Margaret sits l.c._ Peter. Oh, yes. It'll spread fast enough. They may know already. Mrs. G. (_turning with her hand on the centre door latch_). How could they? Peter. News travels fast. Mrs. G. But you haven't told anyone else. Have you, Peter? (_Reproachfully._) You said you'd let me be the first to know. Peter. I met O'Callagan on his way to the Club. He asked me. I couldn't refuse to answer. Mrs. G. (_energetically_). He'd no right to meet you. A dreamy wastrel like O'Callagan to know before your mother! Peter. He'll only tell the men at the Club, mother. Mrs. G. (_opening door_). And I'll tell the women. They're going to know the kind of son I've borne. I'm a proud woman this night, and all Belinda Street is going to know I've cause to be. (_Sniffing._) O'Callagan indeed! [_Exit Mrs. Garside._ Peter. And now, Margaret? (_He stands centre behind table._) Mar. (_looking up and holding out her hand across table; she takes his, bending_). Oh, my dear, my dear. Peter. Are you pleased with me? Mar. Pleased! Peter (_rising_). Yes. We've done it.